I HAVE shown how it is that in ages of equality every man seeks for
his opinions within himself; I am now to show how it is that in the same
ages all his feelings are turned towards himself alone. Individualism
is a novel expression, to which a novel idea has given birth. Our fathers
were only acquainted with egoisme (selfishness). Selfishness is
a passionate and exaggerated love of self, which leads a man to connect
everything with himself and to prefer himself to everything in the world.
Individualism is a mature and calm feeling, which disposes each member
of the community to sever himself from the mass of his fellows and to draw
apart with his family and his friends, so that after he has thus formed
a little circle of his own, he willingly leaves society at large to itself.
Selfishness originates in blind instinct; individualism proceeds from erroneous
judgment more than from depraved feelings; it originates as much in deficiencies
of mind as in perversity of heart.

Selfishness blights the germ of all virtue; individualism, at first,
only saps the virtues of public life; but in the long run it attacks and
destroys all others and is at length absorbed in downright selfishness.
Selfishness is a vice as old as the world, which does not belong to one
form of society more than to another; individualism is of democratic origin,
and it threatens to spread in the same ratio as the equality of condition.

Among aristocratic nations, as families remain for centuries in the
same condition, often on the same spot, all generations become, as it were,
contemporaneous. A man almost always knows his forefathers and respects
them; he thinks he already sees his remote descendants and he loves them.
He willingly imposes duties on himself towards the former and the latter,
and he will frequently sacrifice his personal gratifications to those who
went before and to those who will come after him. Aristocratic institutions,
moreover, have the effect of closely binding every man to several of his
fellow citizens. As the classes of an aristocratic people are strongly
marked and permanent, each of them is regarded by its own members as a
sort of lesser country, more tangible and more cherished than the country
at large. As in aristocratic communities all the citizens occupy fixed
positions, one above another, the result is that each of them always sees
a man above himself whose patronage is necessary to him, and below himself
another man whose co-operation he may claim. Men living in aristocratic
ages are therefore almost always closely attached to something placed out
of their own sphere, and they are often disposed to forget themselves.
It is true that in these ages the notion of human fellowship is faint and
that men seldom think of sacrificing themselves for mankind; but they often
sacrifice themselves for other men. In democratic times, on the contrary,
when the duties of each individual to the race are much more clear, devoted
service to any one man becomes more rare; the bond of human affection is
extended, but it is relaxed.

Among democratic nations new families are constantly springing up, others
are constantly falling away, and all that remain change their condition;
the woof of time is every instant broken and the track of generations effaced.
Those who went before are soon forgotten; of those who will come after,
no one has any idea: the interest of man is confined to those in close
propinquity to himself. As each class gradually approaches others and mingles
with them, its members become undifferentiated and lose their class identity
for each other. Aristocracy had made a chain of all the members of the
community, from the peasant to the king; democracy breaks that chain and
severs every link of it.

As social conditions become more equal, the number of persons increases
who, although they are neither rich nor powerful enough to exercise any
great influence over their fellows, have nevertheless acquired or retained
sufficient education and fortune to satisfy their own wants. They owe nothing
to any man, they expect nothing from any man; they acquire the habit of
always considering themselves as standing alone, and they are apt to imagine
that their whole destiny is in their own hands.

Thus not only does democracy make every man forget his ancestors, but
it hides his descendants and separates his contemporaries from him; it
throws him back forever upon himself alone and threatens in the end to
confine him entirely within the solitude of his own heart.